Masks
by mitsune
Summary: Helga is sandwiched tuna? between Arnold, who happens to love her, and Julian, whom she loves. Julian has secrets which pervents him from returning Helga's love, secrets which connect him with Rhonda. Secrets even Rhonda doesn't know. New Chapter
1. Airport ~Prelude

Masks

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I don't own a thing. This plot IS my own. So, ha ha on you! HA ha ha!!! HA HA!!! Um, this is NOT like majorly H/A, I mean it kinda has it. I dunno. 

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"Oh," sighed a blonde young woman. She looked out her airplane window wistfully as the island rapidly decreased size below her. She opened her laptop, and started the constant tap again. White and black shapes stared at her, and her head swam. "Stupid clothes, cameras, everything." Tanned hands spread out on the gray keyboard, telling her to continue her mind declining. She glared at the screen, and leaned her head on the seat back, feeling her vision blacken. Her eyes shut, and she slept. A gray, monotonous, dreary airfield lay before her, drizzled with water. She ran towards the main building. She faced a pay phone. Her fingers pressed familiar buttons, unconscious of what they were. A man's voice spoke on the other end.

"Bob, can you pick me up at the airport, I'll be at the pay phone near the door. My car is at my apartment," she explained.

"Who's speaking?" the voice replied. 

"Are you Bob?" she said nervously, her voice shook. 

"No, I'm Arnold," Arnold told her. 

"I got the wrong number," she hastily answered.

"Wait! I can pick you up anyway." She hung up, and shakily sat down. Her worst nightmares confronted her.


	2. Graduation ~Helga

~~~~~~~Flashback~~~~~~~ 

HA HA HA!!! 

Fact: I have never seen the valentine special with Cecile, so, if my story seems similar to that, it's not intentional. Also, I must say, I own very little except for Julian, he's mine, well, not precisely. He seems (unintentionally) very much like Julian from Cardcaptors (Card Captor Sakura). Oops. 

~~~~~~~Flashback~~~~~~~

Helga departed from the edge. No one was near her, who would be? Phoebe became popular she became just average, she wasn't here, who else would be at the grade ahead's graduation? Helga would be, she graduated a year early. She was familiar with a few people, including a black haired boy named Julian. But he was talking with Rhonda. "Arnold, I have something to tell you," Helga said. He followed her away from his circle of friends. She turned and faced him, lowering her eyes. _Why? Everything is past, you can let it all go, no one needs know. That was history, you can let the past be. You don't have to bring up a touchy subject. _

"Helga," Arnold protested, looking quizzical. She led him to a maple tree in front schoolyard. She swung around to face him. Helga worshiped his beauty, his bright blue eyes, his springy (at the neatest times) yellowish hair, even his oddly shaped head, one that was more wide than tall. He ran his fingers through his hair. He waited for an explanation. _He IS beautiful, even if that is the only positive thing I notice anymore. I don't like him like I used to. I could have let this all be. It was a silly childhood crush. I can't turn back now though, I mean I took him hear out of hearing, and it would sound stupid if I said something like, ''I wanted to say that'll miss you, after knowing you all my life." That would be really stupid, I might as well then. I'm graduating a year before everyone else. That strange British boy or at least that was what I used to think of him, he is across the field talking to a black haired woman, a _pretty _black haired woman. Is that Rhonda, why is she here? I thought she had to do something, or maybe that's because she never has time. I don't know what she does, but she's always doing something. If she were here, then she'd be the only other person my age. Well, the only female. Arnold is here. _

Helga hastily added, "I loved you. I don't anymore; you were blind to my adoration. I gave up." Arnold grabbed her arm before she could depart to the road. She swung around, facing him. It was her turn to feel puzzlement. She raised her blue eyes up to meet his, and they widened. She wove her long yellow between her fingers, and then letting the strand fall to join the other hairs, falling loose on her back. He took both her hands, and looked into her face. 

"I think I once did too. I was blind though, I never realized, all those unexplainable episodes . . ." Helga ran, pushing her graduation robe above her knees, leaving a small indentation where she spun to leave. She didn't stay to hear him finish his sentence; she didn't want to, she knew it'd make her cry. _I_ _ruined my graduation, and then left Arnold a year to think about it too. Lucky me. I shouldn't have tried to be a year ahead in everything. I shouldn't have told him._

~~~~~~~End of Acid Reflux~~~~~~~

Well, I dunno how long the next chapter will come. I don't care if you review (well, I DO, but I mean I won't effect the story or me much. Unless . . . you critique it. I like criticism). So do whatever, it's a fourth rewrite, so one more rewrite can't hurt. Well, hello person who is reading this. This is stupid, so you don't hafta. You don't hafta read it. This little commentary is useless. HA ha ha! 


	3. The Boarding House ~Arnold

HAHA 

HAHA!!! Anyways, hello Dramagirl310. Thank you for reviewing, thanx a lot. You made me happy (kinda, I mean it woulda been sad if NO one reviewed) so thank you. Thank you thank you thank you. I'm now all warm inside (sounds corny). J J J TB¶:

Arnold's car parked in front of the airport, and he ran inside, so he wouldn't get soaked. A golden-haired woman stood near the phone, clad in a long tan trench coat and sandals.

"Um, miss," Arnold started. She shifted her feet a little, and shook her hair out of her face. 

"Yes?" She turned her head up to meet his face, so much like another time . . . he was the same. Same blond springy hair, same blue eyes that made anyone melt under his gaze, same half-smile, only she was different. Her yellow hair was now gold and wavy, short, falling just past her shoulders. She ran her fingers through her hair, such similar actions . . . 

"You called. This seems so odd." He chuckled. His deep voice sent shivers up her spine, so beautiful, yet not. _How many times does this happen? And how does she know my number? She isn't one of my old girlfriends. Retraced? I might as well take her home anyway, she so gorgeous. _"How do you know my number, and what is your name?" She stared wide-eyed, like a deer in headlights. She then picked at the gray airport cushion, diverting her gaze from his eyes.

"Hel-, Emily. Oh, your number is similar to my father's, my finger must have slipped, or not." Tears slipped silently down her cheeks. She clutched her little black purse closer to her gut. _I hate to see her like that. I don't know anything about her. Was her name Emily? _He picked up her suitcase, and waited for her to stand. She followed him to his red sports car. They drove the opposite direction of Emily's apartment. "What?"

"I don't know where you live, and it's easier to wait at the boarding house," he replied. She didn't blink at his mention of a boarding house. Very few boarding houses still existed still; the mention of one usually made his earlier girlfriends flutter their eyes. She nodded as if she understood. _She's so cold, and wet, she could come to the boarding house to dry. I don't know how far away her house is. She could then dry off. Why did she ask for Bob? Is that her boyfriend? My thoughts keep wandering back to Helga's graduation; it was beautiful outside that day. Helga admitted that she used to love me, then ran. She was almost pretty then, she had two eyebrows, and she grew into her clothes. But she was still gangly. How did I respond? Something about me always liked her. How many people are named Helga? Are there other names that begin with Hel-? _"Emily, would you like to come inside, I mean you look really cold. I can put your coat in the dryer for you, so when it dries you can go home. You can use my telephone," he offered.

"Th-th-thank you." They reached the boarding house. They walked up the steps. Oh, how the place had changed. New people, new furniture, it wasn't anything like the old boarding house. 

"Come inside. Do you want any tea, perhaps?" Arnold led her inside the boarding house. She gave him her coat. 

A small boy ran up to them and yelled, "Mommy, mommy! Some new person is here with Arnold!" Emily sighed, and rubbed her hand along the bottom of her shorn hair. "Mommy, some pretty woman came!" Emily rolled her head around trying to see the whole room. A wooden coat rack was next to the door, and an arch doorway led into a shared living room. Comfortable gray chairs and a couch circled a television. Everything was brighter; the walls were painted gold, red, sage green. A tired middle-aged woman traipsed after her young son. She raised her head, and gasped. 

"Would you like some tea?" Arnold offered. She nodded, and followed Arnold into the kitchen. He told her sit at the counter. She obeyed his wishes, and was given a reindeer mug. She smiled at the out of season cup. It was April. 

"Yeah, okay." She ran her hands along mug, feeling the slight raise of the picture, and the cold of the cup. _Gerald has to meet her. Or Phoebe. Hey, Phoebe has a party tonight; I could take Emily there._ Hot brown liquid was poured into the cup, and it created curls of translucent gray. Emily breathed in the tea steam, and put the cup to her lips, tasting the hot bitter flavor. 

"What do you for a living?" Arnold asked. 

She sighed, "I model. Amazing how such a gangly girl could now, at twenty-five, model. How life has its ironies. You?"

Arnold leaned on the counter; he looked so nonchalant. "Oh, I'm a family pediatrician. Well, I want to be one, I'm still in school." He sipped his tea, all so beautifully, all so gracefully. Emily stood up, and posed. _She reminds me of Helga, she's so similar. A beautiful Helga, but then again, Helga might be beautiful, I haven't seen her in years. _

"Yes, that sounds like you," she murmured. She gazed out of the kitchen window to see the rain stopping. "I guess I must be going. The rain has stopped." Arnold's blue eyes pleaded, then brightened. He dug around in his baggy black pants. 

"Wait! Emily, wi-wi-will you go to the party with me? Phoebe is having a party, I would be pleased if you'd come." He grinned, and looked awkward suddenly. He regained his composure, and took another sip of his tea. 

"Well, I wouldn't mind. Sure, I'll go with you." He brightened visibly, and busied himself about the stove in font of them. 

"It's in two hours. I can pick you up . . . " 

"At my apartment, on 24 State Street, apartment 167." _She actually said "yes." I think I'm in bliss. It's not a date, but she doesn't even know me, and she said "yes." Yet, she seems too aware, to knowledgeable to not be familiar with my friends, this house, and me. She is too much like Helga. She probably is Helga, but why would she tell me her name is Emily? _

Oh, yea. Like after the next chapter of so, uh, I'll stop uploading chapters so fast. It's jut that I already wrote these. So, don't get really mad at me, pleez. I'm sorry. L L 


	4. Party- 1st 1/2 ~Helga

Hiya 

Hiya. Thanx for reviewing. I don't live on them (I live on chocolate, if you wanna know). Chocolate is the BEST food. I have to admit, I dunno if I wrote a disclaimer, so here's one. 

I HAVE LITTLE TO OWN IN THIS STORY. THE PLOT MAY BE MY OWN, AND SO IS JULIAN (I THINK). 

There, I wrote one, happy? 

~~~~~~~~2 Hours Later~~~~~~~

"I actually said 'yes!' I can't believe myself. Why? Maybe because it was so ironic, I couldn't resist. I'm going to Phoebe's party, she invited me, I thought I couldn't get back to America in time. How life changes," Helga sang drearily. She spun in her sage room, and fell on her bed. She clutched her blue comforter, and grimaced. "What if he learns it's Helga Pataki? If he thought, then he would realize it could only be me. How people change." Helga dug her nails into the bed. "Ah-ha! My pink metallic mini skirt!" _Arnold is so stupid, he didn't think, he didn't want to think. He didn't want to face the reality of an actual woman standing in front of him, not wanting to go out with him. All the girls fell for him in high school except me. I fell head over heals in love when I was ignorant. I even think Phoebe had a crush on him for a few days, after he danced with her at a dance. Face facts, football-head, you are not he same person. Well, I get to see my old friends. Look, there's Arnold's car, a cute red sports car; I like my blue SUV. _Knock! Knock! "I'll get it." she ran across her small apartment, and open the door. Arnold stood there in similar pants, and a blue sweater. 

"Emily, you look amazing," he gasped. She just glowered. She posed again, but them scowled. An expression he had seen so many times before, and expression which hid other emotions.

"Criminy! I wear a skirt, and your eyes pop, football-head!" Helga exclaimed, and quickly covered her mouth. _At this rate I might as well as say I'm Helga Pataki, and here's the book of poems I wrote about you in fourth grade. See I used to be love with you, but you notice I got over it? I already told you about that though, so what else is there to hide from you?   
  
_"Helga Pataki? Is it really you? Maybe, oh," he slowed. His face dropped like he wanted it to be Helga. "No, why would you tell me you're Emily?" He sighed almost sadly. His clear blue eyes that showed everything showed remembrance and sorrow. Arnold's voice was so quiet she couldn't make out the words. "I shouldn't have let her leave." _He understood, I guess. Yet he still is blind. Remember, you are an educated young woman, ignore your past accent. _"Well, lets journey to the party, then." She held out her hand, and Arnold took it, leading her to his convertible. The trip was quick and short. The wind mussed her hair than had been hanging loosely down her back, and shook loose all Arnold's hair that he had tried to gel down. They pulled up next to gray duplex. Arnold and Helga walked up the slate sidewalk up to the small porch that held only a folding chair. Arnold pressed the doorbell, and a low buzz sounded through the door. A short Asian woman answered the door. She quickly rubbed her hands on her jeans, and adjusted her square black plastic glasses.

"Hello Arnold, come in," the woman said. She led them into a small tiled room. The walls were covered in coats and the floor shoes. "Take your coats off." 

"Oh, Phoebe, I want you to meet Emily," Arnold introduced. Helga grinned, and watched Phoebe smile, and quickly wink, almost so fast Helga thought she imagined it.

"Salutations, I'm Emily, or whatever Arnoldo just said," Helga pointed over to Arnold. She blushed, and hid her head in shame. Phoebe could tell that it was Helga, or she had a pretty good idea that it was she. Arnold handed Phoebe his trench coat, and walked into the party. 

Phoebe grinned, "Helga, I thought you couldn't come. For I assume you must be Helga, for whom else who call him that? May I also take the liberty of saying that if you are Helga, you might as well tell Arnold that it's Helga, so he can stop calling you that absurd name." 

"Your assumptions are correct. I also might add that when I accidentally asked Arnold to pick me up at the airport, I forgot my name for a second. I gave him the first name I thought of," voiced Helga. It wasn't that whole truth, she intentionally gave him her wrong name, but she DID suddenly forget her name. _At_ _least everyone hasn't lost his or her mind in the last few years. Reunions, how I hate them. It's not Phoebe's fault, it isn't a reunion for her, and for me it is. I've tried to seclude myself from my past, I guess. I didn't want to continue to be two-sided girl, who was publicly a bully. When I went to college I was a whole different person. When I got my road scholarship, and went to Oxford to study, I put on a new mask. Can't I depart a mask? I guess not, this one is more like myself, than before, I guess. _"What's the party for, Phoebs?"

"Gerald proposed," Phoebe announced. "And I'm getting my Ph.D. in physics." Phoebe took both Helga's hands and jumped in place. Her voice squeaked in happiness. Helga had never seen her so happy. 

"That's _wonderful_!" exclaimed Helga. 

"How are you doing?" Phoebe looked interested; they hadn't contacted each other for months. Not since Phoebe e-mailed her about the party, four months ago. 

"I was okay, the my vacations and photo shoot in England went very well. Then Arnold apparently fell in love with him, and I just feel so bad. I mean, I can't return those same feelings." She sighed sadly. Arnold liked her a lot, and now, now for once she couldn't return her feelings. 

"Oh, yes. Well, you'll be noticed, Arnold has gotten around. I mean he's gone out with, well, everyone except Rhonda and you," Phoebe replied. Helga's eyes got big, and she took a second to reply. _Rhonda? Why not her? I mean she_ was _popular, once. She now is probably prettier, and older, and more grown. Maybe her lover is Julian. He, he, used to study with me sometimes in high school, he was always with her. Maybe they got together. _  
  
"Rhonda?" Her thoughts were spoken, accidentally.

"Yes, she well, was never seen after high-school. I don't know really what she did. Julian does." Phoebe released one of Helga's hands, and still held the other while she led her through the door onto the party. Phoebe almost screamed to get Gerald's attention above the loud music. Gerald waded through the crowd. He went to Phoebe, taking her other hand. Phoebe let go of Helga's hand. 

"Hello, uh, Helga?" His voice was deep, melodic. Both women smiled at his confusion. The room was brightly lit with Christmas lights and steamers. The large room was flashing with multi-colored lights and loud rock music. Sunset shone through tall glass doors that went to the veranda. A few people sat on the veranda, two black haired people, and some others. 

"Yes, it's Helga Pataki," explained Phoebe. Other's feet on the wood floor almost droned out her voice. 

Gerald bowed, mockingly, so you could only see the top of his Afro, at Phoebe, and asked, "would you care to have this dance with me?"

Phoebe replied, through her giggles, "I'd be much obliged." They left Helga alone. Two people on the veranda walked back inside. The woman took both black coats, and walked towards the coatroom in the front of the house. The female passed Helga on her way in, and started a conversation on the way out. She stopped in front of Helga. She half smiled, like she was hiding something. 

"Hello, Helga. I didn't know you could make it. Oh and how did you _ever_ get Arnold to take you?" she laughed cynically. Her words were mid-range, and unused. She sounded like rarely talked. It sounded if it was intended, she drawled. The woman pulled her silky black hair off her face, and shook her head a little. Then she stood still, like a statue. It unnerved Helga. 

"And you are . . .? I don't think I know you," Helga stuttered. She just smiled. _Few words, and as silent as stone._

"I know you, and you should at least know who I am. I've known you since I was four, I think." She turned around for a second, and faced Helga again. "Rhonda Lloyd." Helga gasped, and her mouth turned into an O like a child. Helga made stuttering noises, which just made Rhonda's mouth contort more. 

"Rhonda? Why are you here? I mean you're not Phoebe's or Gerald's friend." 

"I got an invitation as you did or Arnold. She's just celebrating. She invited everyone from elementary school, you, me, Julian, Arnold." She put her hands on her hips, and stared at Helga with a you-should-have-known-that look on. She then turned, and walked back to the black haired man she was earlier talking to. Helga looked about, and started to walk to the punch bowl. _Why am I so infatuated with that punch bowl? Why don't sit down at the nearest chair? What am I? I'm Helga if she was nice, pretty, angelic, cute, wonderful, in other words, I'm Helga if she was perfect, at least to other people's point-of-view. Well, for Arnold. Phoebe just treats me as she always has. Except Rhonda's. What was all that? . _She walked into a large mass of dancing people, so she just sat in the nearest chair. She could see very little from where she was sitting. The black haired man that was with Rhonda earlier walked over, and sat down in the empty seat next to her. 

"Hullo," he said. His tenor voice sounded interested. She turned around, and faced him. He was tall, with longish spiky black hair and mellow gray eyes. "Is this seat taken?" _He looks like Rhonda, except her pointed features smoother and rounder. He's even tall like Rhonda, are they related, like siblings?_

"No, I don't think so. About the chair I mean. Hello," Helga babbled. She blushed, and started to pick at the hem of her skirt. _He's really cute, and polite. He's also familiar. I think I knew him. Maybe I just imagined it. _"What is your name?"

"Julian. Yours?" He grinned, and suddenly turned his head. He said something Helga couldn't hear, and turned back to Helga. Rhonda walked over and sat next to Julian.

"Well, uh, Emily." She then shook her head, and muttered to herself. Rhonda glared at her. "Helga. My name's Helga." Rhonda half-smiled. She then turned her head from Julian and Helga's conversation. Julian absent-mindedly took Rhonda's hand and squeezed it. She nodded, and understood. Helga sat baffled, puzzled how Rhonda could decipher a meaning they both understood from that simple action. 

"I came with Arnold. I used to Phoebe's best friend, by another name." Helga smiled shyly.

He laughed suddenly, "Rhonda told me about you. She told me much, in her point-of-view. I know you too. Never mind that, would you like some punch?" He stood, and walked away. Rhonda tapped her long white fingers on her knees. Then she scowled, and tapped her knees again, differently. 

"Yes please. I was trying to get to the bowl but gave up." _Julian? Who is he? Well, anyway, he's more interesting than Arnold is at the moment. Why is he talking to me? Will Arnold mind? Why Rhonda? Why is Rhonda sitting there, why did Julian want her to come over? _Arnold took Julian's chair between Helga and Rhonda as soon as Julian left. 

"Emily, I was . . . um . . . thinking of leaving soon, do you mind?" Arnold asked. Rhonda stopped tapping her knees momentarily. 

"You can leave with out me. I can walk home. I don't really want to leave, I haven't met all your friends yet," explained Helga. Her eyes pleaded. It made Rhonda sick. _Please let him buy that. I mean, it isn't quite true, I want to get better aquatinted with Julian, I really like him. Except, what about Rhonda? Are they involved with each other? How? _

"Julian isn't one of my friends, he's one of Rhonda's, besides, it's getting late," Arnold protested. "And you seem to know them all already." His face was worried. "It's only five. I really don't know anyone yet." 

"It's late if we want to have dinner together in a fancy French restaurant on the West Side." _It would be very romantic. It would be nice if I went with someone else . . . Julian. _

"I have to . . . uh . . . pair my socks . . . and do my laundry. I've been out of the country for a while. I'm behind on laundry. I can't," stammered Helga. Rhonda made quiet gagging noises. Julian laughed quietly in the background. Arnold stood, and left. His face dropped. He disappeared into the coatroom. "My laundry is already done."

"I know that," Julian replied, his face was stony. She couldn't read his emotions.   
"  
"He didn't," commented Helga.

"Yes, he did. You think too low of him. Yes, he is blinded by love, and acts like a fool because of it, but you think that's all he is. Helga, Emily, why? Why didn't you tell him you were Helga Pataki?" he asked. Helga could now tell he was angry. He was quiet, grim, and grave. He was very quiet. Rhonda's look was almost sympathetic, like she had experienced his wrath before. 

"Because of the day I graduated. He came to my graduation, an-an-an-an-and I admitted that I used to love him. I treated like it was nothing, I was so technical about it." She cowered in his rage. He took a deep breath, and sighed. 

"You were ashamed, Helga. If your past was erased, you'd be giddy with glee that a cute boy would take you to a party, you'd tell him your real name, and he might care, but get over it." _Does he think I'm dim-witted?_

"Of course I'd act differently if my past was erased." Julian took her hand, and led her out of the party, onto the veranda. He shot a glance at Rhonda, and she nodded. She stood too. _I think I love him, even when he's angry. _"How do you know? How do you know that I'd be ashamed?"

"Because a girl did the same thing you did."

"You mean avoid you because she used to say she loved you?"

"Our relationship was different for her. She was beautiful. She had the longest silky black hair that would flow behind her. I never told her, and everything was different. I should have. She was too afraid her façade would slip. Well, the façade she created for herself to cover herself, the one that was made in my absence. She dropped it. We were like siblings. If she only she knew . . . " Julian sighed. "Helga, you may leave him because of other things, but don't because you were stupid." 

"You sound like a psychiatrist, in distress." Julian laughed half-heartily at Helga's remark. Helga quickly shot her glance over to Rhonda, leaning near the window. Rhonda reminded her of Julian's description of the girl. Rhonda's eyes showed infinite depth, gray pools that took in all, and omitted none. She couldn't tell what Rhonda felt for Julian, they seemed more than siblings. _Is she the girl Julian was describing? Did he ever like her? How could he? She was all riches pomp and clothes, Julian understands me, everyone, maybe her, and he doesn't fit into such a cookie-cutter shaped person. How could anyone understand her, she is a shadow, standing there, silent, watching me talk with Julian. Everyone else dances and she stays alone, watching, yearning. _

"This is my favorite song." He stood up, and bowed, asking Helga to dance. She was honored. He mouthed over Helga's head something she couldn't make out and she saw Rhonda play an invisible piano briefly, her eyes laughing. Julian's gray eyes sparkled with some unknown humor. 

"Can I leave Arnold for other reasons?" she asked, and smiled. _Like for you?_

"Yes," Julian said as he released Helga to tie his suede sneakers. Phoebe asked them if they wanted dinner, and they walked inside. _Is he playing me for his fancy? What am I to him? What is Rhonda to him?_


	5. Party- 2nd 1/2 ~Julian

Hiya! Another chapter! Yay! Thank you everyone who reviewed, and dramagirl310, again. you honor me with your reviews. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"That was wonderful," Helga complimented Phoebe. 

__

Helga is so screwed up. I understand that, knowing her parents, her family, and her environment. She has her secrets, I mine. She isn't aware that I was her "study buddy" in tenth grade. I was always Julian; I needn't change my name, because I was unnoticed, except by Rhonda. Well, after I came I was, after Christmas in eighth grade. I was in Helga's graduation, salutatorian in fact, still unnoticed. Or at least not remembered. Rhonda was the girl I mentioned; she wanted a brother. We were like siblings; she didn't want to ruin that. I don't blame her, neither did I. If not for what I know.

"Can I have another slice of pizza, please?" Helga said.

"Uh-huh," replied Phoebe. He moved his foot so it was more comfortable. He shifted his gaze, so he could she Rhonda pull her knees up to her chin, and wrap her arms around her legs. She was repulsed by the amount of grease, a sign of her sheltered existence. She was trying not to throw up. He tried to mop off the extra with a paper napkin so he could eat it, but it wasn't working. He pushed the triangle of take-out grease around his white paper plate, so not to look rude. A large tablecloth was sitting on the floor, with twenty or so people crowded at the edges. Take-out pizza boxes littered the center with many two-liter bottles of pop. Rhonda daintily sipped pop from a paper cup. Helga ate the food hungrily, but ran to the bathroom right after.

__

Age has done so much for Helga, and against her. She prettier, gorgeous in fact, and is more knowledgeable, but thinks her childhood was useless, unneeded. Rhonda stood there, like a shadow. She led such a secluded life; her life is alone, she and Helga. Helga, I don't know what to think of her. I know she likes me, more than I'd like. I shouldn't have gotten so mad at her earlier, I guess. I don't want her to love me; it would make things so much more difficult. Arnold's life is full of people, as is Phoebe's and most of her old schoolmates, except me. I am still lonely, an artist. I note suspicion in her eyes, when they fall on me. Insecurity and isolation mark her thoughts. 

I didn't know her until seventh grade; we were in middle school together. Those first days she was like a firecracker, always ready to burst, then it did, near Christmas that year. Then she did, for a week, nothing, except mope. Now, I know then her Arnold dream shattered. Arnold just kind of covered everything, he was a secret light for her, and now she had none. Arnold was never going to like her, and she just gave up. I think that helped her, but then, what did she have left? Phoebe was absorbed in popularity; she really wasn't Helga's friend anymore. Helga absorbed herself in work; her life was homework, paperwork, and writing. By high school she had more awards than her sister, only hidden, away in an alley. I always liked her, for some weird reason, maybe because I felt I understood her. I now feel that is foolhardy, but then I wanted to understand something, Rhonda was my sister. Now I don't think I can understand her, I don't want to. Something about her makes me repel against her intimacy. She wants to love me, or she already does. I was always paired with Helga in school because of our work was similar in advancement. We knew each other well enough, yet she forgot me, all these years. Maybe that is why, and because of Rhonda. I love Rhonda, in a not very brotherly way. She just never was exactly like my sister, maybe because I know something.

"Julian, Julian," Helga mumbled. "The same Julian who was always my partner in high school. He knows more about myself, than I do." 

__

She does remember. Oh. 

"I know less," he muttered back. Helga smiled meekly, and bent down. She dug around in her skirt pocket. She pulled something out of her pocket, and slid it into his hand. Her hand lingered on his hand, and then pulled away sharply. 

__

A letter? Okay, it dates back eight years, our graduation day. She was seventeen, I 18.

Julian, 

I never admit to anyone that I notice you there. I lived on Arnold, I bet my good will, my happiness on him. Seventh grade could be a new beginning, a new life. P.S. 118 was gone, to me. I didn't want to be the same person, that two-sided girl. Then there was you. I wanted to leave crushes alone. I didn't know what to do. So I did nothing. I'm sorry, I didn't ignore you, I was always aware you were there. In high school, when we were always paired together, we were so close. Yet we were never close, I wished we were, yet I tried to rebel against my traitorous thoughts. Well, it's over; I can forget everything.

-Helga

__

Helga wrote this? I was different? She moved from one secret situation to another.   
  
"Helga? What is this? This letter, what was it for?" Julian asked. He looked quizzical. He secretly passed the note to Rhonda. 

"Well, I wrote it that morning of our graduation, and I wanted to give it to you before I left. Instead I made a fool out of myself, and worked up forgotten memories. I should have let the past be," clarified Helga. 

"Would you like to have lunch with me sometime?" he blurted. 

__

I just don't understand her. I also want to paint her; she'd make a beautiful painting. She'll take this all wrong though. I don't want to have any romantic connection with her, just a painting, to stash somewhere in a storehouse. I'd give it to Rhonda, but even her_ walls are filling up. _

"Sure, except I can't on Mondays and Thursdays because of photo shoots," she said.

"I can't on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, because I can't."

I don't want to explain that often I have to go to stupid meetings of my mother's, and then I often eat lunch with Rhonda. Or that Tuesdays and Wednesdays I often listen to Rhonda's newly composed music. Helga wouldn't understand. 

"Hmm?" 

"No, I have to help run a family business." 

__

It's almost the truth. It's close enough. 

He stared, then continued to eat in silence. Talk surrounded them. 

__

She wouldn't understand. Different in appearance and actions, but similar in outlook. I sound like a commercial for a television show, excited, making you want to watch the show. Helga is so different now. So am I. She doesn't obviously hate me, yet. Arnold was never right for her, especially now. He was too perfect. Too wise, wiser than his years, for anyone except himself. He didn't understand anyone else, because he was too special. He understood them only to an extent, for a friend, he was too above everyone else. Arnold would make her happier. She doesn't understand me, nor could I ever marry her. Yet, I can't let Helga see that. Nor can she see that her love is wasted.


End file.
